Opening Night
by Traillbits
Summary: October 9, 1986. After so much planning and preparing opening night is finally upon them, and finally it is time for a man to take up the masked mantle. Time for the Phantom's opera to begin. (Original London Cast drabble)


Everyone has arrived at last; he peers behind the velvet is a shock to see such a turnout; every seat is steadily being filled, people discuss a pre-review of what they believe will happen in the show, others simply wait patiently for the opening act. Months of build up for this, the opening night.

It has been an interesting turn of event in his career, as this man of comedic skits and scenes that resulted in a roar of mild laughter now being introduced to a dark, new motif. He is completely out of his comfort-zone, but at the same time it is a wondrous experience he has had with the other cast members. He hoped he could still stay in touch with some of them.

"Almost time," He's told whilst being rushed to the dressing room, his costume laid out and prepared. Emerging out of the dressing room he glances over himself in the mirror, not looking like himself at all in the black tailcoat suit.

He's told that Act I is ready to begin, it's not time for his big reveal just yet. But even still from the small room he already can hear muffled applause through the wall. And that overture, the symphony loud and dominating to all whom here it.

And then the story truly begins, and the audience is greeted by Carlotta's drawl voice. It is intentionally done of course, but almost frightening how someone with a well talented voice as his fellow actor can perform so atrociously over the top with ease. He stifles a chuckle, she is quite good.

He wonders if all is going well, though it certainly sounds like it. All is prepared as the true soprano allows her voice to soothe the audience with awe. The man slips the dark cloak over his shoulders, the white bowtie around his neck fastened comfortably, the black suit without a single crease or thread out of place. The costume department should be well praised for their work.

He takes a last look at the hideous layering of 'skin' attached to his face; it is both grotesque and impressive how it looked fairly real upon him. The remainder of his unaffected features are coated in the make-up as he appeared to be a ghostly pale complexion. His hair was concealed with a more sophisticated cut wig so as he matches the estranged man he will soon become on the large scaled stage. It was covered up quite well actually; he could not recognize himself in the least bit.

He then picks up the piece de resistance. A mask. A white, porcelain half piece. As he pressed it to his face it had fit perfectly, like a puzzle piece fitting into place as if it belonged there.

He was ready, no more was his real name, now he was a man which had no name. and a face only meant for a world of darkness.

Finally he waited on the two lovebirds of the story, executing their lines and notes with great accuracy. Being the first showing of this production he was overwhelmed as well as slightly unnerved, awaiting his queue for what felt like an eternity. There were so many people waiting out there, to say the least it was obvious to feel overwhelmed.

Then came the stage-hand's signal as the orchestra drum beats grew faster, as his heart pumped hard in his chest. He adjusted his microphone with one hand before finally interjecting himself into the scene.

"Insolent boy! This slave of fashion…Basking in your, glory!" His voice booms all around, as the woman looks all around, hearing the voice from everywhere but seeing no one. The lights dim as only a single spot light illuminates her. "Ignorant fool! This brave, young suitor. Sharing in my triumph!"

"Angel I hear you. Speak, I listen. Stay by my side guide me…" She beckons, longing for their awaited dark duet. "Angel my soul was weak, forgive me… Enter at last, Master."

His tone becomes softer than the heat of anger it started at, as he prepares to reveal his face to the public eyes. Well part of his face for the time being that is.

"Flattering child, you shall know me…See why in shadow I hide…" He draws her attention with soothing, calm words. He now takes his place, ready for all to see him as his new identity. "Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside!" From the glass his dark demeanour comes into view, the audience is surprised but in a good manner by this shadowed and mysterious man. The fedora covers his eyes from them, the lady waiting on stage for him continues on, walking ever closer towards his opaque image in the glass.

"Angel of Music, guide and guardian! Grant to me your, glory, Angel of Music, guide and guardian! Come to me strange angel…" The mirror is pulled away as darkness hides it, fog escapes onto the stage, as now she's nearly close enough to approach her Angel, this dark composer, the plagued man.

This Phantom.

"I am your Angel of Music…Come to me Angel of Music," His soothing words calling the girl to him, she reaching out for him even as the young suitor returns.

"Whose is this voice?" He asks, attempting to unlock the door to no avail. "Who is that in there?" He inquires in a panic, frantically calling to his Little Lotte. But the Angel's voice is too powerful as she now walks trance like to him, grasping his white gloved hand in her own. Just as Christine had succumb to him, the actor upon the stage at this moment, was fully under the control of the mask.

"I am your Angel of Music…Come to me Angel of Music," He repeats and whisks the angelic soprano away with him through the mirror passage, into the foggy darkness.

"Christine!" Raoul cries out,

At this moment, the Phantom of the Opera had finally manifested himself into the mortal world, through a guise of attire and alluring music. His image infamous for decades soon to come.

 **Feedback would be much appreciated :)**


End file.
